


Where Once Was An Empire

by DetachHunter



Series: [DARKSIDERS] Where We Once Walked [1]
Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: Character Development, Character Study, Culture study, Favorite OC guys, Gen, He's kinda a dick (later on LOL), It's mostly a self indulgent fic stop judging me :(, Lots of time skips, Niel's the main character, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 03:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17542079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetachHunter/pseuds/DetachHunter
Summary: The fairly linear timeline of a Firstborn Nephilim's life and experiences up to his supposed death during the Battle of Kothysos.Author Note:No set update schedule.





	1. Firstborn

**Author's Note:**

> **CH1 Summary:** With the successful creation of Absalom, the template for the first generation of Nephilim had been set. Now all that remained was to fill the molds and bring them life…

It was the dull flickering of a dying ember desperately attempting to reignite within the wells of melted candle wax. Drowning, suffocating as it feebly licked out to obtain solid purchase, splashing hopelessly to grab onto _anything_ , to pry itself out from slipping further beneath the ooze that threatened to snuff out its spark. And just as it felt its final breath being squeezed out from non-existent lungs it burst, combusting violently into the wild flames of something more akin to untamed self-immolation than that of rekindling. Fevered heat blossomed and advanced across the sticky surface that now bubbled, writhing and twisting, rising high and dipping low in non-specific intervals, hardening in some places, softening in others. There was no pain to accompany the spreading fire, there was no feeling at all in truth, simply the expansion of a life force renewed and refusing to let anything go unscathed.

With the ever-widening presence of the flames there the lack of smoke, only the toxic steam that rose as the wax began to evaporate under the molten assault, leaving no sensible remains in its wake. The thick liquid only continued to melt further, transforming into a thinner layer as it tried to make its own escape or burnt to the point of becoming that of _air_ ; seeping smoothly across the black void that sheltered it and the blazing perpetrator that followed. Peeks of unnatural light began cracking in through the chips now forming in the walls, contrasting against the hue of the red-orange fire that furthered its offensive. A single beam pierced to cast down the center, the colour unfathomable that it caused the pyre to flee, shrieking in the wake of the intruder’s harsh illumination. The once burning ignorance now understood _agony_.

Nothing made sense for a moment. Nothing was given a concept of revealing the truth, of understanding, of grasping at the knowledge hanging before it. The void that engulfed the surroundings of the trembling inferno shattered, allowing a cold breeze to sweep in and chill the flames with uncomfortable swiftness, killing it just as the previous wax had tried and failed to do so. Murdering the spark without hesitation or mercy, no torturously slow process involved, no sadistic intent of revenge behind it. Now absent from the broken abyss, the white light of misconception that poured in from the cracks broke the remainder of the black glass, demolishing reality…Then _nothing_.

Eyes suddenly fluttered open as the incantations reached their melodramatic conclusion, destroying the entirety of his previous world to reveal the next, the newfound curiosities of an awaiting realm, something more _real_ then the womb he had been dragged from. For a long pause he simply stared at the undecorated ceiling before him, his body currently without function as his mind ingrained all that it was processing: taking note of the flickering lights that danced along the dim walls, listening to the heavy breathing and near voiceless whispers that travelled around him, barely understanding the brightening and darkening colours that came into his line of vision. He couldn’t comprehend where he was—well, not exactly, nor did he even know what to call himself, instead his mind was filled with information of things he knew but wasn’t entirely certain as to _how_. Perceptions of knowledge swarmed his memory banks, things he didn’t yet fully understand currently, but _knew_ nonetheless. It was intriguing, confusing, yet highly infuriating, and his complete notion of self-awareness made him less happy about his plight. He had questions, if only a few.

Finally taking advantage of having a functional body he slowly sat up, half registering that only a handful of seconds had passed since his ‘birth’ and that everything that had just processed through his mind had been the flash of an instant. _Oh_ , he was well-aware that he had only just been ‘conceived’ into reality, and how as well; perhaps even daring to go as far as to knowing the _reason_ for it, though this hardly disturbed him, nor did it fascinate his fleeting interest. Collecting a more in-depth examination of his surroundings, what now occupied his vision was many forms and sizes, and he inhaled their vastly differing scents that intermingled softly in the air as he took a first draw of breath. Gazing around in the now deafening ticks of silence, his mind clicked with a new registration of information.

 _Nephilim_.

Perhaps it was the sense of familiarity that caused his subconsciousness to root around and _remind_ him of the word, of what _they_ are, what _he_ is. Acknowledging this notion, all he saw before him now were his considered brothers and sisters, each garbed and physically appearing so extensively different from one another that there could possibly be no reason or way for them to be related upon first sight. However, only an idiot wouldn’t be able to find the similarities: all that were here were _Nephilim_ , a forbidden, unimaginable offspring brought forth into creation with even their own _souls_. The recognition of this brought a twitch of a smile to his lips. He didn’t even know why he found it so amusing.

“Looks sentien’ eno’gh to me,” one of his siblings murmured, her words floating around as she looked to the others as if wishing for additional confirmation, one of her pointed ears slightly twitched. The motion caught his attention, a nervous habit perhaps? Maybe even just a response to ensure that the others were listening to her or registering that they had heard her. Pulling his gaze from her, his eyes swept round to all the others present, he had yet to hear any of them leave and there wasn’t an empty space within their circle around him.

Feeding his curiosity, he absorbed what visual material was offered before him. Some of them were pale, others had darker shades of skin that varied, a few were mismatched or possessed unnatural pigments that caused them to stand out or blend in more with the dark background of the gathering. Two of them had wings, one was feathered with greyscale tones, the other’s texture was something between leathery looking flesh and scales with protruding bones that matched the rest of their exposed skin. Between them there was a variation of hair styles and length as well: long, short, differing colours, a blending of multiples perhaps natural or unnatural, etc. He noticed many of them possessed claws, though most looked filed rather than grown, one had a tail that swayed lazily across the dirt, another had horns protruding from their forehead and chin, the list went on, but he observed them all.

“Ah, sentient enough. Look at how he _watches_ ,” another commented. This one he couldn’t determine the gender of at first glance as they sounded slightly female, but their predominant features seemed that of male. However, they were the one with the tail, and it almost seemed to _wag_ anticipatingly, causing another to his left to snicker and his gaze flicked over to them, meeting a slightly disguised smile.

“Mind sharing with me then,” he suddenly began before another array of commentary could be made on his intellectual level. “Brothers, sisters. Where we _are_ exactly?” This perked their attention, their moods suddenly morphing from that of being playful to taking up the mantle of seriousness they first had, if not still evident of the exhaustion that lingered in the expressions of their showing humours. A brief quietness etched itself into the air, stilling it and their company despite whatever soft breeze travelled through the room to bother the arcane lit candles that hued blue.

“You should already be aware. We’re in the _birthing_ chamber.” One behind him responded, causing him to crane his head back to look at them, just barely seeing their gesture made around the room. And though the other looked blind, with the way their head tilted and bobbed, he had a feeling they could still _see_ him, make out the expression that creased his lips, the way his brows furrowed slightly at the answer. Of course he was already aware of that, and soon they realized their misinterpretation like a slap. “We’re where it’s _safe_.”

He allowed the explanation to simmer within his mind for a while, like an itch welting beneath the skin that flowed up and down his body, particularly fascinated by the way it crawled up the vertebrae of his spine. It left him without much of a speech and so he bobbed his head a few times, wrapping his thoughts around the meaning of _safety_ and why he had been so intrigued to know he was within its bounds, though he had no assumptions he would be born under the pressures of _danger_. Yet as young and new as he was, there was always risks to arise, he supposed. Giving a slight determined nod he shuffled up to his feet, stretching within the space the others provided him. Mostly they simply watched and shrugged, preparing to take their own leave now that their task was accomplished.

“Any others?” He allowed himself to voice his question with minimum context, as for whatever reason, his nature seemed not to care enough to speak _too_ much. For the moment, in the very least.

“Waiting,” the horned Nephilim replied, a stern male voice easily giving him away. Having nothing else to offer, he gave an inclination of his head, almost that of a mocking bow to the answer provided, yet his brother was not done speaking yet. “You’re the last for a few days. We need to gather more _material_ from _around_.” He gave another nod, understanding.

“Absalom will see you, as soon as you’re clothed,” a sister spoke. _Oh yes,_ he mused almost mindlessly, _decency_.

+++

Perhaps it had been from the overwhelming sensation of power that emanated from the very first of their kind that caused him to involuntarily take the action, or perhaps it was the lingering touch of their creator upon him that made him do it. That when he stepped forth onto the dais he hastily averted his gaze down to inspect the chipped stones embedded within the floor, examined the cracks in the dirt nearby, his ears perked to the distant hum of insects buzzing just outside the makeshift meeting room. Though whatever the cause or reasons for this, when he had stepped before Absalom, taking in the appearance of what was considered their eldest brother, he fell to his knees and knelt.

However, it was only mere moments later that his distancing thoughts were brought back into the fold by the loud bellowing laughter of their truly _firstborn_ and his gaze instantly shot up, white-blue haloed eyes wide with confusion. Whatever unease that roiled through his stomach perished in that instant, ushering in other new feelings to attend with his bewilderment, though he softly felt a twinge of embarrassment creeping through him, along with a hint of concern. Were his actions so truly amusing to the other? Or was he simply the first to ever bow that the older Nephilim found it absolutely absurd? Whatever the case, he watched as the other wheezed out another bout of hearty chuckles, his mind becoming aware and drifting to the presence of a burning orange gaze blazing down upon him, though he could tell there was no malice intent. _He_ was just as entertained as Absalom was.

“ _That’s_ a first,” Absalom chortled gently, wagging a finger in his direction that resulted in the rising of a single wicker white brow. “No hesitation! As if I were a King or Lord! Not instead an older brother here to welcome his new kin!” Another breathy, pleasant sigh escaped from him, a smile forming upon the crease of his chapped lips, and the eldest nudged at his other company gaining a huffing grunt in response. “Come on Death, show some _humour_. Perhaps we should call him ‘kneel’!”

“You say _that_ ,” the other shook his head, shoulder length black locks swaying gingerly at the motion. “But you know how newborns easily pick up their names.”

“An alternation of spelling then, to keep him and others understanding. A slight difference in the way we say it.”

“Niel, then?”

“Don’t ask me! Ask _him_.”

Sighing, the pair of bright orange orbs swept down to meet his own blue, blazing with a white halo in the center gaze, their eyes locking for a moment. A drawn-out minute passed between them before Death, as he was so called apparently, nodded to him, though he didn’t much grasp the meaning of the gesture in full. Acceptance? Mayhaps. A potential subtle mock of him? That too was a mayhaps. Truthfully, he couldn’t find himself enough reason to really _care_ about the other’s opinion of him, as he doubted it was very high either way as of right now.

“Niel then?” This time it was asked of him, though he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond. They were deciding his designation now: would he get another option if he refused it? Would another option even fit what he currently knew about himself? His thoughts were becoming juggled down, causing him to scowl and instantly conclude. Why spend more time wasting it on a name he potentially might not like, might not befit him, when they had already come up with something based on his actions? He didn’t _mind_ it, of course.

“Niel then.” Crushing his swimming reflections, he easily mimicked what the other had to say, sounding more affirm than that of denial. They then nodded to in agreement and so he quickly pushed himself to his feet, expecting dismissal now that the formal meeting had been conducted. He couldn’t help but notice with his attentiveness to detail the elements of a smile playing at Death’s lips, the faint cringle that formed around his eyes. Unsure if he was welcome to leave or not without command, he decided to inquiry, just to be safe. “…Should I go?”

“Mm. Perhaps we could talk a bit first,” Absalom hummed.

+++

It was mostly one-sided: the every-changing conversation, the examinations of details they both shared, all the while filling in the gaps of his pre-implemented knowledge to an extent, furthering his grasp on what he already knew and why. He was given an in-depth rundown of their race, the first generation’s slow coming about into existence, what type of numbers they should be expecting, what little culture they currently had of their own name, traditions already established, and what they knew of the universe. He learned more of Lilith too, though he said nothing on the topic of their creator, not so much of not finding her to be fascinating, but more of not entirely certain of what to think of her instead. It was like that for much of the session, sitting in silence, nodding or verbally commenting that he understood, voicing when he didn’t or when it was time to shift the subject. Though as it progressed he had an increasingly growing _itch_ pecking at the back of his neck, and he noticed the other older Nephilim gnawing at him: though Niel more felt that he was being thoroughly scrutinized.

“A question,” he paused Absalom in the midst of a somewhat choppy explanation, granting him a hand gesture for him to continue what he had to offer up. The expression the eldest harbored was that of slight concern. Had he been lost along the way in this segment of information? Was he still processing the last and required another recap or time to process? Was he tiring of the conversation? It was always hard to tell _when_ they felt exhausted in these times. However, the newborn’s attention turned to their ever-silent brother standing off to the side, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “Death you’ve rarely spoken. Might I ask why you _stare_?”

Both gazes were now upon the other who stood stoic and without a single change in his demeanor. Maybe he had been expecting to be eventually called out on his behavior, or maybe he suspected his scrutiny would go unnoticed or unchallenged the entire time. Though if he was surprised, Niel couldn’t tell yet; didn’t know his brother well enough to form a conclusion on his possible emotions, not with an expression so dull and blank. Absalom, however, seemed _enthralled_.

“It’s nothing,” the older Nephilim replied, waving it off. “For now, at least. It has nothing to contribute to the focus at hand for your current learning.” Niel raised a single snowy brow to this, questioningly as his facial creatures furrowed slightly with the rest of his mood. He obviously didn’t seem satisfied with the answer, but his brother’s expression told him that even if he were to pry, he wouldn’t receive an answer until it was the proper time. So he deflated instead, resuming his previous comforts and their session took up once more.

“One last inquiry,” he stated, raising to his feet as all was finally concluded after another hour or so, Death having taken his leave some several minutes earlier. “What’s our current goal?”

“For now,” Absalom answered, thoughtfully as he raked his mind for the answer. “We wait.”


	2. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **CH2 Summary:** Roughly half a decade has passed since the last of the Firstborn had been created. Since then they’ve started planning, slowly expanding, exploring a few of the other realms, taking advantage of the Old Ones who’ve yet to see their threat; finally beginning to understand how depraved they are from the rest…

He wasn’t so much in the way of being large like many others of his kind, instead he was slimmer and somewhat tall, fluid and agile with each movement he swayed. Draping wicker white hair brushed down to the mid of his spine, curtaining around a tanned, scarred, and black-blue marked face that harbored white-blue haloed eyes. The expression that curved his features were slight at most, blank overall and unimpressed. Adorned in black plate, tinted with the metallic glare of purple-red when in the light, engraved with curves of gold trimming and bound to his lithe frame with brown leather bands. From his pauldrons and back sprouted lapses and twin scarves of red wine, complimenting the dark purple wrappings that provided his under garb.

In the crook of his arm was cradled the black horned helm he so seldom went without clad, the shadowy essence that normally poured from the crevices no longer wisping about as its owner went with his face exposed. Clutched in the grip of his right hand was a glaive, barely worn and blemished as it had only seen its use during the days in the training fields, the same went for the short-handed axe that hunt loosely at his left hip, swaying gently to readjust itself whenever he shifted.

From the vantage point he had managed to scale himself up to post his arrival, his gaze swept across the area laid out before him from where he crouched low by the edge of the cliff, absorbing in the details his keen vision would allow in the prolonged lunar cycle. Thick black shadows danced leisurely below the tree line of the forestry from where he had clambered up from, engulfing the bottom of the valley in an ocean of inky, swallowing umbra that almost casted unnaturally dark. Had he stayed down there any longer, he was certain the tides of darkness would consume him as its next meal, though the thought of something that dangerous _actually_ being within the thicket was amusing; perhaps it would gain him a few new scars. Shaking his head slightly to his internal musings, disturbing the lengthy wash of his hair, he refocused on the task he had been assigned: _scouting duty_.

Roughly five—or perhaps it was six?—years had drifted by since his creation, and in that time there had been several notable changes for the firstborn generation of Nephilim. Within those years their numbers had grown exponentially, easily reaching the goal Absalom had discussed with him during their first formal meeting only a few years afterwards, however, even though they had reached their current peak, they knew they still weren’t ready. That whatever plans they had laid out for their future would have to wait, if only just a while longer, and maybe only after a _second_ generation had been spawned would they go into fruition. Regardless, even if they were forced to be longer delayed, they wouldn’t simply be idle about it; what use would that be to their cause if all they did was sit in the depths of their settlement within the festering Abyss doing nothing but training, only having each other to skill themselves against? It would only get them so far and heavily impact them in the long run to do nothing.

And so that’s why he was _here_ , scouting out the forest lands of a realm he didn’t so much bother to ask the name for when assigned to the mission: climbing trees, cliffsides, taking time to invest in the details of what little wildlife sprang forth from their burrows, and of course, what _Old Ones_ might reside here as well. Absalom was beginning to grow a bit twitchy lately from all the inactivity as one could only spar with Death so many times before the lackluster began ebbing in, so he called forth those older Nephilim he trusted were skilled enough to begin scouting in preparations for possible relocation. It was only a matter of time, of course, when they would be forced to take this action anyways, as they knew The Abyss was not a place they could reside in forever. The laws of physics, nature, _everything_ was wrong in that dark hole of collected dead realms that had slipped free from their cradles in the light, and though they would hardly qualify themselves as creatures of the light, they didn’t so much feel entirely comfortable where they had been spawned. But that was a matter of discussion for another time.

White-blue eyes flickered back and forth across the sea of gingerly wobbling trees as a near non-existent breeze eased between them. It wasn’t the movement itself that had caught his attention, but more of the fact that there was any at all, enough to make the churning noticeable at least, yet he wasn’t able to sense anything that would scream danger, and during his time on the ground below nothing had popped out and attempted to slay him. So perhaps he was just curious, even with all the previous knowledge he’s gathered thus far, this was new. Recollecting, he’s already been here for a fortnight and he’s yet to see much of anything: ground or aerial wildfire, anything that would indicate civilization at least above ground, but then again, he also hadn’t found any signs or entrances to underground establishments through the caves or ravines he’s explored either. In fact, everything about this realm was oddly barren, well except for the trees.

Rising to his feet he slipped his helmet back into place, the black wisping essence now flowing from the facial crevices once more as the armour had been restored to the wearing of the full set. Blue-black ghostly whispers lingered just outside his vision as he slowly circled round: looking to the midnight sky, the flourishing grassy ground below, the trees to and fro, trying to spot anything that stood out. _Anything_. Yet there was still nothing and he was beginning to draw the conclusion that he should take his leave, return to his brethren and inform Absalom of his findings, which…Well, it really wasn’t much.

A few odd but large clearings in the woodlands where the trees hadn’t spread to grow, a handful of reliable water sources, there was plenty of wood around obviously, and…Well, not much else. In truth, he’d hate to feel as though he were leaving empty handed, but he might be forced to do so in the long run, as he wouldn’t wish to keep his siblings waiting on him forever. That and his sudden extended disappearance might cause a stir within their ranks, might cause them to do something rash far too early than planned, though with how effective they were at strategizing, that would still be considered quite a tactical rash move on their behalf. However, even if he were to suddenly slip under the radar, he had been sent to a realm that was basically devoid of life—that he had found anyways—and there would hardly be anything to exact vengeance or panic upon. They’d likely conclude of him drowning somewhere, but then again, Nephilim don’t breathe.

Whichever be the resulting case, perhaps this would end up being their location of moving. T’was quiet, isolated still which gave them plenty of space to themselves, the resources seemed fair enough from what he had managed to discover in terms of shrubbery and even some spots of ore, and the rivers had plenty of aquatic life they could consume—he was a testimony of not witnessing any to be poisonous. Or maybe he was lucky in that regard, honestly, he didn’t much care. Sighing and taking a final glance around, perhaps hoping to see something new or unusual enough that would allow him to continue his stay awhile longer, away from the realm of literal darkness incarnate, nothing came into view. The returning journey would prove to be just as uneventful.

+++

The commonplace song of battle cried out with fervor just on the outskirts of the occupation, fierce war cries pierced through the air in tune with the grunts from those who had taken a blow, the clash of forged weaponry rang out, and the blasts and residue of magic exploding lingered faintly in the air, though most predominant where a spell was being cast from. These were the sounds of _home_ , the comforting noises of familiarity despite the violence that typically accompanied them. It was all he had ‘grown up’ around, all he remembered doing in the earliest stages of his life and only continued to do so to this day. _Fight_. The Nephilim, for whatever purpose they had, had been created as warriors. Why else would they have been carved from the mingling remains of Angels and Demons? Because they had been the only available material to use? Mostly likely not; but the two races were—to the knowledge he’s collected—warrior races, and so they were too, as if following the paths of their heritage. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy to lose themselves in the thrill of the fight, even if it was just sparring.

Trudging onwards in a slow, tired march to the borders of their encampment, he decided to skip the last several meters with a single easy mental spell: both his physical and mental form vanished for a moment, his soul being flung forward in an instant, carrying him forth and through the open walls in the span of a short twelve meters. As he re-materialized back onto the tangible plane of reality, those patrolling the outer fortifications looked to him, nodding their approval and carrying on with their own business. Had he been someone—even _something_ —else, or somehow had a way of masking his presence, they would have cut him down before he could draw a single breath of air after reforming rather than acknowledging his return without questions as if it were an everyday occurrence. Without so much as a welcoming either.

It was good to be home.

Taking a minor detour to make a brief trip to his private abode located more towards the center of their camp, being one closer to the makeshift Council’s currently staged headquarters, he made sure to discard his weaponry and helmet on their proper racks before continuing to his destination. It wasn’t that having weapons or obscuring his face would seen as disrespectful or that of malicious intent, but instead after a long trip he wished to unburden himself from the weight of his carrying load. His weapons weren’t overly heavy, in his opinion they were quite light really, despite the material they were forged from, and his armour didn’t weigh nearly as much as it probably should. However, with the long adventureless crossing between the realms and his fortnight of carrying them with little rest, he felt sluggish and fatigued, though he summed that up to having to take the trip alone and on foot, perhaps once they relocated he would suggest acquiring other methods of transport. It would certainly make things easier for those like him who were without a pair of wings to uplift him and soar upon when traversing through the silent, empty, white void between the realms. Perhaps that’d be considered as useful.

Arriving at the half stone, half wood, built structure that posed where their designated pseudo method of government converged, he waited patiently for the guard posted to slip aside. Her frame was massive compared to his: her skin ebony and smooth, easily sliding over huge muscles that shifted as she shuffled aside, her face adorned with faint golden markings about red eyes, horns protruding from her cheeks and curling upwards and back to curve around her ears and scalp. Long blonde hair was braided back tight, weaving around other bony protrusions sprouting from her skull, her large feathery wings flurring up against her back as she made sure he was provided with enough space to pass. He remembered her, she called herself Edrei, and so he nodded his appreciation to her before he ushered inside. A loud ruckus of conversation catching his ears only after slipping through the magical barrier that separated the interior from the outside world; it was like walking through a showering mist, leaving his exposed skin feeling cold yet dry.

“And that realm is heavily occupied as well!” Following the loud, bellowing outburst was the sounds of a fist slamming against a wooden mold, likely a table, and it whined audibly under the pressuring assault. The voice shouting in anger was none other than their eldest, and Niel felt as though he more _sensed_ than saw his brother’s rage as he slipped inside, the other’s power vividly emanating in the air. The true firstborn of their kind had a visual fang baring scowl written across his features, twisting both his mouth and beard with the actions of his lips. His fist was still laying balled up against the table that now had splinters cracking up from it, though his composure shifted effortlessly into something calmer once he noticed the newcomer. “Ah. You’ve returned.”

“No better time, I suppose, given how upset you are. At least the table doesn’t have feelings,” the smaller warrior replied, gaining a soft chuckle and a solemn nod from their considered highest leader as he wasn’t about to deny his evident wrath, but he might as well settle down for the moment to hear the new report. There were a few others present too, but all of them remained quiet and at their own respective distances from one another. Death, who always seemed to be at the eldest’s side, he’s noticed, was the only one who dared to be within a reasonable arm’s length of their larger sibling. Perhaps it was in case Absalom succumbed to an overly violent mood, or maybe he was just unafraid; though Niel knew despite Death’s sinewy, corpse like appearance, he was just as strong as the latter physically, being easily able to toss or knock down some of their largest with a single throw or hit.

“Yes…What were your findings?” It was almost as if the previous outburst had never occurred, like they were just having a casual chit chat over the rare day’s beginning meal, causing him to shift involuntarily, much like his movements when they had first met not long after his being conceived to reality. As they waited, a lingering two second pause between the question and the informative answer, Absalom made a gesture with his hand. A smooth brush of his fingers in a seemingly non-specific direction, dismissing another who strode from the room in silence; Niel assumed it had been the latest to report before his arrival.

“Well, nothing much.” He finally answered, the other’s frown returning, creasing his lips more than prior. “As in, I mean I literally found nothing.” Now the expression pulled from a pensive welling of anger to that of somewhat perked curiosity.

“Care to elaborate?” The humour was light, barely sprinkled in with the words, but present nonetheless.

“The realm you had me walk seemed devoid, or at least the many miles I travelled and scoured about. It’s mostly forestry, has longer night cycles than day, and I didn’t find any civilization or signs of both above or below ground. Not much in the way of wildlife either, though there’s plenty aquatic in the rivers and lakes I found. It felt very…Backwater.” It was a straightforward recall, probably one of the briefest reports he’s ever given, but he had nothing else to offer and he refused to go into the nitty gritty details of his lackluster, practically harmless trip. The most that had occurred on his venture were small things, nothing overly interesting, a repetition of the same thing every day, and he might have accidentally tripped once or twice while zoning out from the monotonous scenery, but that was all unimportant.

“There’s the possibility of low resource chances there, from what it sounds like,” one of the others began suddenly after a long pondering quietness had settled over the Council. Glancing at one another for a few seconds, both Absalom and Death turned their attention the new speaker, Niel only slightly affixing his gaze.

“Maybe so,” Death began, his gruff tone soft as if he too had been yelling earlier. “But it’s a start, and we Nephilim don’t really need much in the way of consuming anyways. For now, our priority is to relocate, it’ll be much easier to travel between the realms from there than from where we stand now.” A few nods of agreement were posed, a unison conclusion already made even if there wasn’t a physical reaction from a couple within the group. Though what other choice did they have, unless they were still waiting for the return of another scout or two? There had already been audible doubts that any of the other populated realms wouldn’t appreciate their sudden en mass appearance, and it might be viewed as suspicious.

“Then we’ll begin preparations in the following days,” the eldest replied, straightening his stance and drawing himself away from the splintered table he had still been looming over. Death shuffled around at his side quietly, taking a single step backwards to give the other space as he moved, still retaining the same amount of distance they had with each other as before. “I trust you to make the announcement, Vaelus.” A simple nod from the other was all he needed before he easily flicked his wrist, the meeting disbanding and the others training out from the building.

Taking that as his cue to depart as well, Niel twisted on the heels of his boots, long hair swaying to the movement with a soft _jingle_ emitting about his character, though before he could draw a step toward the exit, he was postponed. “You may stay for the moment. We’ve something else to discuss.” _Like our first meeting again?_ Swiveling back around, he shrugged, Death already moving and waving for the two to accompany him to a back room. _Definitely like our first meeting_.

+++

“We believe it’s time we _marked_ you, Niel.” Death commented before he even had a moment to formulate the beginning of his own response as to why he had been pulled aside. Instead, he cocked his head in near silence, brows furrowing together in confusion. He was more than well-educated on the traditions that they as a race held, had been there through the creation of almost all of what they had now, but the reason for it being brought up _now_ puzzled him. Typically, those who were marked were regarded as important, or received it in recognition of a grand achievement. He wasn’t quite sure _this_ would be qualified as such an achievement and he hardly found himself as one of importance, or maybe he was downgrading himself, the first signs of a lower self-esteem.

“All I did was my assignment. I hardly see this as befitting enough of a reason to be marked,” he retorted humbly, absentmindedly reaching up to rub at his arm just beneath the outcropping of his right shoulder pauldron. The action seemed to go unnoticed in his mind but caught the attention of the two.

“Greatness comes in various forms,” Absalom started, taking ahold of the reins of the conversation. “You’ve provided us with a place of relocation, one that seems isolated enough to befit the initial steps of our plans _without_ haste. That’s well enough an achievement in my eyes for you to receive the mark.” His brows were still furrowed, but the response lightened his expression. Despite them all currently being firstborn, most of them were left in the dark when it came to the plans Absalom, Lilith—whenever she was present—and the rest of the Council had for them, at least to a degree as they never wished to spread information that wasn’t heavily peer reviewed and agreed upon, therefore making their schemes mostly unknown, even to him. Though, they still had all the rights to _ask_ and would be granted an answer in one method or another, be it simply the cutting of information or a full explanation.

This was part of one of their already made known arrangements: the moving of their settlement. It had always been a part of the larger picture, everyone spoke of it, all they had to do was find the perfect place to shove themselves and he had just managed to do so, despite the misgivings he had prior to returning and now. Once more his mind slipped off to the notion that he was getting _lucky_ with several things as of late. His training and magical capabilities were enhancing to greater feats than before, the imbuing of his powers into his weapons as a crafter had been quite successful by an unexpected margin, there were a few whispers floating about that he was gaining more favor from being highly resourceful to their board of leaders, and now this? It almost felt _coincidental_.

 “…Alright,” he murmured, pulling his thoughts back to the present before his expression could screw up into something that seemed more than disdainful. He didn’t wish for his brothers to think him upset from this, even though he didn’t entirely feel like he had done much anyhow, that he was only having a bout of unseemly good fortune lately, but he’d doubt they listen to such words. “When do you want this done?”

“Within the day, so that it won’t be as fresh when we begin the expedition,” Death responded, squinting at him slightly as if he had said something minorly offensive. Though the way he stared made it feel as if he had read his thoughts, like he was aware of his internal doubts. “I’ll be the one to do it. I trust you’ll meet me unadorned in the ceremony hall before the later hours?” A gesture was made to his right arm: always the right shoulder was marked, as tradition stood, and he bobbed his head in affirmation. “Very good. _Now_ you may be dismissed, if you’ve nothing else to speak of?”

“Nothing. Unless you have?” Both elders shook their heads, and he bobbed his again out of habit. Spinning around on his heels once more and exiting from the room, from the building itself he swiftly hurried himself off to his private abode. Though he made sure to give a soft farewell to Edrei on his way out, noticing her increasing bored mood.

+++

Brightly hued arcane candles of blue and red wicked in an array of blending colours against the walls of the ceremony hall and its several chambers wherever their lighting could reach, keeping certain areas as illuminated as possible, while dusky dim in others. There were many uses for the dominantly stone carved building: it served as the primary birthing facility of their kind, was secondarily used as a place for practicing certain magical spells, or seeking isolation to exercise one’s crafting abilities, sometimes even used as a silent place for already skilled ‘makers’ to imbue their weapons and armour with the powers of their own. Though there were other reasons that were actually ceremonially related, such as now when two or more of them were taken to the farthest room within the practical cave and the process of marking began.

As per the request of his older sibling, he came _mostly_ unadorned to the chamber, still being fully clothed and armoured expect all the wrappings and plates normally attached to his right arm were missing. Even within the safe perimeter of their own encampment, Niel rarely went about without his armour adorned in some manner of fashion, as he wasn’t about to allow himself to go anywhere less than prepared to some extent, just in case any of the _natural_ inhabitants of the abyssal realm they resided on decided to attack, though they tended to keep their distance. Even so, with both his slight paranoid of impending assault at any guaranteed time, and simply his precautious nature, Death seemed rather amused when he arrived, something he always found to be endearing. Like he had observed prior during the Council’s meeting, despite his sinewy, corpse like form, Niel was aware of the strength his brother possessed, and also his high natural healing capabilities too: perhaps that’s why he and Absalom were so intent on going around without any sort of breastplate armaments, well, more like going completely shirtless at that, but he didn’t judge as there were many others—male and female—who followed their example.

“As requested, I’m here before the later hours,” Niel mused softly as he approached a slab chiseled from the wall in which Death stood by, his tone soft and somewhat light than what it had been earlier at the gathering.

“Took you long enough. I thought you fell in a hole on your way here and was swallowed by the ground,” he teased, drawing a snort from the marginally younger warrior as he eased himself down to sit on the stone berth. Harvester was in Death’s grip before he knew it, the large scythe that towered over him by a foot or so was resting against the crook between his neck and shoulder, pressing against his protruding collarbone. _Surely he doesn’t mean to use Harvester to make the incisions…_ And much to his unvoiced reflections, Death chuckled softly as if he had spoken them aloud. “Nervous much?”

“Well, I wasn’t really expecting you to use _it_.” He confessed, his gaze darting to the scythe once more and the latter shrugged, allowing the weapon to reform to his will, and where once was a tall, looming scythe now laid in his hands as two large knives. That hardly made him feel any more reassured than he was before, but he managed to keep his expressive emotions and thoughts in check this time, not to hint away at any discomforts he might really be feeling.

Setting the extra blade to the side, both Nephilim repositioned themselves: Niel turning more to face the wall, bracing the nearest side with his other hand while exposing the entirety of his arm to his brother, while Death slid in closer, examining his shoulder on where he should make the first cut. The process of marking was an elementary one, though it was more than just a _scar_. They quite literally carved into the skin, just deep enough to wound and heal in a very distinctive shape and depth, a process that took no longer than perhaps twenty minutes at most, less than ten if one was skill enough. And Death was one of their most skilled, despite only having to do the surgical process a handful of times, his hand-eye-coordination was almost unreal.

Surprising himself when he didn’t flinch as skin and muscle were cut from his shoulder, he watched from his peripheral as his unnaturally dark red, almost black, and thick blood bubbled out from the purposely inflicted wounds, the gashes applied almost _gurgling_ around the blade. Though to catch him unawares even further, he was also astonished that he didn’t feel the need to resist the urge of using his healing magic to seal the injuries on contact, and he summed it up to a possible subconscious level of him that had been entirely prepared for this day to happen. Either that, or perhaps there was an outside influence clouding his mind to inaction. He found himself not really caring much for the second time in the same considered day cycle.

“There,” Death hummed as he pulled himself away from his work without even so much as glancing it over once to make sure everything was in order, and Niel’s gaze shifted down to the bloodied mess that was now his appendage. By the looks of it, Death had worked down to up, likely to avoid the blood from hindering his view anymore than necessary. It was only then he realized how _numb_ he felt; no wonder he hadn’t flinched. “If you want to heal it with magic it’ll make the process go a lot faster, if not, we can dump water on it and dress the wound. Whichever way, with your regeneration, it should be no more than ten minutes before it’s healed.”

Opting to mend the damage manually, wishing to see the permanent work done after the thick clotting had ceased, he ran a soaked cloth up and down his arm, smearing and wiping away the red-black ooze in the process as it turned into a runny liquid, dribbling down his arm and onto the dirt-stone floor. Now crested upon tanned skin, though in a lighter hue like all his scars, was the mark both Death, Absalom, and several others, shared. And though it didn’t seem much in the way of an impression, he certainly felt _changed_. One of many more to come in the following days.

Looking to his brother who was now busying himself with the cleaning of his tools, he nodded courtly. “I’ll take my leave now then.” He was only responded with a slight glance, and the slightly twitch of lips to form an inkling of a smile.


	3. Abandoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **CH3 Summary:** She had finally abandoned them, the reasons left unknown to most, if not all, be it the Firstborn or the second generation, so of course they turned to one. A singular who could still lead them through to their purpose…

Lilith had forsaken them. Perhaps she hadn’t done so by any willing means, any that were known at least, as she had a tendency for expressing with immense fondness of how she accepted them as her own, even going as far as claiming herself to be their _mother_ , though these could have easily all been lies. Regardless of those previously made clear facts—or even the illusions of—she was gone now. It hadn’t been all that sudden in his opinion, though the way he observed the issue and compared it with her patterns of coming and going over the years prior, he had always suspected that it was only a matter of time before the Mother of Demons was to take her final departure from her _children_. In truth though, he didn’t expect for the event to occur so soon, or perhaps without warning as it had, the news that she wouldn’t be returning had been through a Demonic messenger being sent to them instead several months since her last voyage. _Hell_ , maybe he was just in denial like many of them were, though if he was he couldn’t explain as to _why_ or whether he was lying to himself or not, as he had never been one who was particularly affectionate towards the Demon despite her role in his life.

These specific feelings and speculations of his concerning her had manifested not long after the process of birthing their first generation had neared its completion, where he had grown independent and distant from her, and only continued to as they resettled their community to their new place of residence outside The Abyss. Following his absence around her as they began expanding further on their plans of dominating the neighboring worlds as they took note of how this backwater realm was not all that befitting of them, though a start, even becoming painfully aware of _how_ depraved they were in their current state, his mood increasingly transformed. It only proved to aggravate his growing dislike of her, for if she had truly cared for them so much, why would she have _dared_ to create them in the manner that they were? Choose the place where they had been born, out of sight from the prying eyes of the Old Ones and the Two Kingdoms as if they were a threat?  The more he thought on it, the more questions were raised, but never once was he provoked to voice them; it would be out of line and he was sure Absalom wouldn't necessarily approve or entertain this train of thought. But whatever…

Recalling this information and easing away his internal turmoil with the subject, he did have to admit that he had noticed certain aspects morphing about the Demon Queen’s behavior during their leisure period of relocating, gathering material, and preparing for the process of creating their second generation, along with the expansion of spreading word of their plans to each other about their upcoming campaigns. She had almost seemed a bit _jumpy_ from time to time, as though some unseen predator was constantly stalking in the shadows of her every step, and despite the confidence she upheld herself with and even with the _comforting_ presence of having numerous dangerous Nephilim all but surrounding her at all times while she was present at their camp, it was still noticeable to those who paid close enough attention. So, he supposed it was unsurprising to a degree that many were left in disarray at her sudden disappearance and with no foreseeable return, especially for those who had closer to their ‘mother’. Though others—and he would dare include himself within that grouping—seemed almost comfortable or without much worry of her prolonged vanishing or the message brought to them, as if it were an everyday occurrence that she would be gone from their lives, if not permanently now. Truthfully, he would even claim himself that he wasn’t too overly bothered by her loss, but it still put their race in a distressing state of… _Limbo_.

Admittedly though, without Lilith they were essentially leaderless, and even with their small Council tasking themselves with overseeing many of their activities and steering them which way and that while heavily discussing upon the details of their plans, settlement expansions, future generations, etc., they were only a means to combating being directionless. Now, however, they were left without anyone to tell them what to do in an even larger picture. As who would command them to commence raids on both the Angels and Demons they needed captured for materials in specific locations deemed low profile enough that it wouldn’t cause attraction to the scene? They only had a few of those locations marked and weren’t always patrolled either, let alone they couldn’t hit the same region twice in a short span of time either, and they were still attempting their own scouting terms and where. Though not only that, who would keep them appraised of the outside universe’s activities and politics they barely cared for but still listened whenever told? Anything could be used as an advantage in some manner and being up-to-date kept the trick box freshly supplied.

Mostly importantly above all, who would be willing to take on this mantle of responsibility? So far, no one has stepped up to the plate, showing each and everyone of them their insecurities about the position. It spoke a lot about them.

And to bring admittance forth again, not him. Even with the vast amount of experience he’s cultivated in his years since birth, Niel hardly qualified himself as a worthy candidate to lead: he was even still at odds with his own leadership thrown at him by the Council as they settled into Phase-II of their plans. Not only that, but he had also been granted a minor role within their board as well, and _then_ he was given a small regiment of warriors to command once they’re to deploy with their tacts of future domination. In the brief time that has passed since their relocation, he’s been forced to hone his underdeveloped skills as a leader, has had to work alongside those in his company for long hours without seeming end, note-taking all the strengths and weaknesses they each possessed and figuring out how to exploit and overcome them, along with how they should function side-by-side in combat. A vote had been put together that they should at least train for specific tactics and teamwork skills only, as while many of them were great warriors, a large chunk of them even being Firstborn, they were still much smoother as independent soldiers than in groups of what could even be considered as their feeble numbered army.

Discarding all distracting thoughts aside: those of Lilith’s departure, how he and the others were reacting to the situation, the difficulties that were posed against him with his newfound and forced upon position in leadership, etc. he had to clear his mind! He couldn’t prolong his wallowing around like this! Becoming inattentive and reflecting on such trivial matters that couldn’t be changed anyways! This just wasn’t the time nor the place— _Alright_ , he mentally confessed, _maybe it is…_ He was, after all, in his new private abode that laid just on the outskirts of their new encampment, laying down on an undecorated cot he had set up for himself, despite his habits of lacking in physical rest.

Exhaling a gruff sigh of self-sourced irritation, the Firstborn warrior decided to roll from his makeshift bed, his feet planting softly against the dirt floor as he rose. And though the heavy curtains within his home were drawn—something he had obtained while interacting with a race of Old Ones while collecting components to forge more weapons for more of the coming generation—he knew the night cycle was still trudging by. The days seemed to grow ever shorter in this realm, but with it accompanied a colder chill in the air that was normally only felt in the early morning and nightly hours; Lilith had made mention that it was likely the ‘seasons’ changing, whatever that meant. There had been no _seasons_ in The Abyss, and several of the other realms he’s travelled to seemed to be in a perpetual state of the same weather conditions almost every day, why would that be different here? He just didn’t understand it, but he knew questioning it was just as futile as he was more than qualified to say he’d likely never get an in-depth explanation. Besides, the colder temperatures didn’t much bother him, or any of them really, so it’s not like it mattered so long as they adapted.

Striding briskly through the three main rooms that made up his small home, impatiently pacing back and forth, still obviously bothered by the circumstances but feebly trying to come up with a solution to cease the hinderance of his mind, he eventually stopped in his ‘armoury’. It was rare for him to go without his weapons near or his armour adorned, but for the last two or three days he had done so, staying mostly in the isolation of his own home: forgoing training, ignoring soft summons for assistances with crafting or imbuing the others’ weapons with their power. He simply stayed at home, _thinking_. There was his problem then, he was overthinking _everything_! He needed to separate from his thoughts, needed to expel anger or adrenaline that welled beneath his skin, needed to do something else to distract himself from the abandonment issues his mind was so focused on clouding him with, despite all his efforts to tell himself that _he didn’t care_! That none of this caused him anxiety! That he was one of those more unaffected…

Grabbing his glaive and a nothing more, ignoring everything else that he was leaving behind despite the screaming of his consciousness, he all but rushed out the main entrance of his home.

+++

Pale breaking violet-gold streams of light fractured through the ebbing midnight sky as dawn approached and he sulked his way back into the camp, waving the border’s patrol off from their puzzled gazes as his soaked form imprinted damp steps into the hard, grassy-dirt ground. He had spent the better part of the night roaming through the forestry, scaling the tree, jumping around the terrain testing what his mobility was like without his armour—he found it to be roughly the same—trying out the new combos he had been recently taught, and thoroughly exhausting his magical reserves. So much to the point that when he flung his soul forward, a little too close to his limitations, when he had rematerialized he had plunged straight into a pond without a single saving grace. If anyone else had seen him he likely would have been abashed by his recklessness, but since he had been alone, he laughed it off and pulled himself from the water. Which was the cause of his current state: soaked, barefooted, practically _naked_ in his own right as he was dressed only in his body wrappings, and tired, though he’d swiftly recover from that.

Not to forget the worth mentioning part of his nightly venture, for he had effectively and thoroughly taken his mind off the troubles that had plagued him, though he found that would soon end as the Council hailed for a morning convergence. And despite being only half dry by the time they had made their summons, he was compelled to attend nevertheless. Though once they had all arrived in attendance, Niel glanced over a handful of times by the others for the state he was in, but never offering them an answer to any verbal inquires, it began. First it was the basic, yet most demanding, query that burned through them all. _“Who’s going to lead us?”_ Then the debate followed…Then the yelling.

It took barely six minutes before Niel could tell that both Absalom and Death were beginning to tire from the arguments being posed just as he was. In his opinion—which the others would likely find invalid or deem low in some manner compared to their own—most of their ideas were quite _flawed_. One was to expand the Council, another was to divide it into equal powering branches, do this, do that, why doesn’t _mine_ work? Now stop agreeing with her! Disagreeing with me or so and so! Heaving out an audible sigh that was drowned by the bickering, he cleared his throat and raised his voice to the level reserved only for when he bothered to use a war cry in battle.

“ **I** vote!” He sucked in a sharp inhale of breath, forcing out a single impression with the first word to escape his lips, gaining the attention of them all, and against the notion of his minor role within the board, he still had a say in things. Once they were truly focused on him and what he had to say, his tone lowered back to its regular beat. “I vote Absalom be our leader.” His consideration turned when the elder Nephilim almost seemed to _flinch_ at the suggestion, golden eyes narrowing slightly as if he had misheard. That of shocked silence filled the room for a moment, and then murmurs took its place, filling the space of the air with breathy hushed tones. Upon him still, Niel could feel the blazing orange eyes of Death, his brother regarding him with quiet curiosity. It caused him to rub at his arms—the motions for once consciously done—readjusting the water crusted dry wrappings about them, avoiding the fiery gaze before his of white-blue looked up to meet his, daringly.

Soon the answers flowed free afterwards, neither Absalom or Death even participating in the considering of the others, and Niel looked to stare blankly at the floor and walls, for whatever reason his mind now wishing to avoid eye contact. The agreement brought forth was wholly unified, and the explanation that accompanied it: Absalom was their true firstborn, and he had been one of the closest to Lilith because so, likely even harboring some of her meticulous traits and skills for leadership, her tacts and understanding of the universe, if not exactly to her fine degree. That when compared to the rest of them, even compared to _Death_ , whom took no offense to being called out on such a matter, who lacked in that conception.

Whether he was in shock or humbled, their eldest remained quiet for a pondering while longer. The pause shattering after several distilling minutes.

“Are you _sure_ about this?” He asked, gaining the raised brow of a few, even causing Niel to pull away from his floor-wall staring. The oldest of their kind raised a hand to his chin, scratching idly at his beard as if in an internal debate of consideration.

“We should still hold a Council nonetheless,” Death interjected, speaking for the first time since the initial greetings. “But _you_ would have the final say as our overall leader. Determine what next plans should be, new strategies, tactics, on our raids, where we should scout, etc. You’ve already been doing it for _years_ now, what’s stopping you?”

“You…Prove a point. I never really looked at it like that, I was just trying to lead us through the beginning storms. Doing whatever I could in my power to steer us along the right path with the guidance we had.” He was confessing, his words truthful. The vulnerability of it caused a few of the others to almost shrink at how humble he was being. These were amazing times.

“And you still can, even if we’re missing our former guide, _you_ still have the experience of what it’s like to be in that position. It makes you more than qualified for the role, and maybe it wouldn’t change all that either,” another proclaimed. He was of a medium size: broad shouldered, large and barrel-chested, horns and bony protrusions sprouting from his chin and down along his spine and forearms, a tail swaying back and forth idly, yet his fair hair and face was almost more accustomed to that of an Angel than a Demon. Absalom pondered longer again.

“So then…This is all in agreement, despite being the only real solution thrown to the table?” Of course, he had entirely dismissed their arguing, likely was too busy being annoyed from the bickering to have paid too much attention to it, or at least anything that might be worth looking at again. There was a sway of heads from them all, a few verbal confirmations even, though they seemed in decision enough. They had to come up with a swift end to this predicament as they had already been sulking for days now, whittling away on productively, and this had been the best offer shown to them. What other choice had they? More bickering? More waiting and sulking, becoming directionless? Those were wastes of time, and this could prove to be as affective as it was before, especially with the lack of change there needed to be. They had already stated their reasons as to why, why bother to repeat them? “Very well, I suppose I’ll take on the challenge.”

“Where to start first then?” Niel spoke up again, questioningly this time.

“Ourselves. We need to harden ourselves from these emotional _flaws_.” Another unison nod, this was something beyond agreement.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is interested in what Niel physically looks like and/or wants to know more info on him, here's his short bio: [[Niel's Profile]](https://www.evernote.com/shard/s624/sh/8b3997fc-a3b2-4c0e-85bc-bafcb5621063/008d2e1a75a241cad4bd4833f1fe89b5). Please don't steal or copy him! He's my favorite OC and though this isn't his canon verse, he still means a lot to me.


End file.
